


Tattoos

by icylook



Series: Vergil Surana [12]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:42:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25083319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icylook/pseuds/icylook
Summary: “Can you really do a tattoo or were you messing with Alistair earlier?”
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Male Surana, Zevran Arainai/Male Warden
Series: Vergil Surana [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615327
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Tattoos

**Author's Note:**

> For ZevWarden Week 2020 on tumblr, prompt fill for Day 5: Tattoos °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Everything seems softer in the evening. The light, noises, time slowing down. Or it could simply be Vergil’s attention decreasing thanks to the tiredness. 

Vergil catches himself staring at Zevran, pausing in combing his hair. Both of them are after their dip in nearby stream, quick bathing and scrubbing the worst of the road grime. He’s busy with brushing his blond hair, still slightly wet. Vergil watches as Zevran’s fingers nimbly start one of the braids, that usually keep his hair at the sides of his head and out of his eyes. The strands are longer than the rest of his hair, something Vergil noticed some time ago, one of the many details about Zevran he caught and memorized. 

There’s a strange tug in his gut, one that doesn’t have anything to do with lust and he pointedly ignores it, pulling too roughly at the slight tangle in his hair. Vergil hisses softly under his breath, gentling his combing and he looks up at Zevran again, when he hears him humming something. A song perhaps? 

Vergil’s eyes meet Zevran’s, the man looking at him with a shadow of a smile, a hand under his chin. The fabric of his loose shirt slips a bit on one shoulder and Vergil’s gaze easily shifts to the lines of his collarbone. Under it, there’s a tip of a tattoo, the black ink coiling on the skin of Zevran’s arm in neat, clean patterns. The design is simple, yet enticing and even if it’s hidden by the fabric at the moment, it’s easy for Vergil to recall how it highlights the contours of Zevran’s muscles. Like every other tattoo on his body seems to do, something Vergil finds appealing.

“Something on your mind?” Vergil blinks at the sudden question, Zevran’s lips curled in a smirk. 

“Can you really do a tattoo or were you messing with Alistair earlier?”

“Oh, I assure you I can.” Zevran leans back, both hands spread on his bedroll. The shirt stretches over his chest and slips even lower over his shoulder. His smile grows when Vergil seems distracted. “Given proper tools I would be able to draw something fitting. I’m told I am not so bad with my hands,” he winks and Vergil’s mouth twitches. 

“Too bad, I think you spooked him with rosewater bath.” Vergil’s comment startles a short laugh out of Zevran.

“Well, now it’ll definitely stay in his mind. Maybe he’ll give in with right push?” He tilts his head to the side, watching Vergil put the comb away, done with his hair. “An example, perhaps?”

“Example?”

Zevran humms, bending forward, “You could get a tattoo first, if you wish.”

“Would you have to bathe me in rosewater and give me a massage first?” Vergil teases and Zevran huffs in amusement.

“Most likely. But before, I’d like you to choose what exactly you’d like to have tattooed and _where._ It’s for a lifetime or so I’m told.” He lightly taps his uncovered arm.

“I think I’ll pass,” Vergil says. “But, I think they suit you.” Zevran’s frown passes in an instant at his words and Vergil shifts to sit closer to him, fingers itching to touch.

“Do they,” Zevran preens and nods at the unvoiced question, reading the mood in a heartbeat.

“You know they do,” his hand sneaks under the sleeve, pulling it up to uncover the pattern on Zevran’s forearm. Curious fingertips brush the skin, tracing dark ink.

“Did you do any of them yourself?”

“I am talented, but not as much to do it with one hand. I’ve got some input on style, especially on my back. And above hips.”

“The curly design pointing at your cock was your idea? Subtle.” Vergil smirks at Zevran's falsely offended look.

“It doesn’t point-” he moves the waistband of his leggings down, “Look at that, it’s marvellous way to get right attention when I’m not naked. Only _half-_ naked,” Zevran adds after a bit of a pause.

Vergil’s eyebrow goes up as he eyes the skin, marked by few small and paler scars beside tattoos. One of them cuts through one of the lines, and without thinking Vergil lays his hand on Zevran’s abdomen, thumb lightly touching the smooth area. He feels muscles twitching slightly, the warmth of Zevran’s skin pleasant under his colder palm.

“It seems your past lovers weren’t so bright if they needed such elaborate tips,” Vergil murmurs, looking up and locking his eyes with warm golden ones.

Zevran shrugs with a teasing smile, “It worked most of the time.”

He relents his hand, noticing a shadow of disappointment on Zevran’s face. “The ink doesn’t feel any different than skin. Although…,” Vergil pauses, frowning. The texture _is_ like skin, but there’s a bit of a tingle when he touches it with _focus._

Zevran nudges his knee with his own. “Although what?” 

“How exactly is ink made? Are there things you can add beside pigments?”

“Interested in the craft, are you now?” Zevran's eyes light up. “Well, of course you can add ingredients that make colour more vivid or permanent. But how ink will hold up depends on many factors, the most important being one's body and their reaction to it.”

“Yours look fresh,” Vergil glances at the sleek lines on his arm, “and they aren't that new, are they?”

Zevran hums, shifting so their knees touch lightly, “No they aren't.” A wrinkle appears between his brows as he looks up towards tent’s canvas, “Now that I think about it, I was fifteen, no, sixteen, when I got first tattoo.”

“Let me guess, it's that one.” Vergil points at Zevran's hip and he barks a laugh. “Actually, it was this one,” he turns and pulls his hair up, tapping at the small tattoo of ruffled feathers. He saw the mark on his nape few times before, but never commented on it. The question is at the tip of his tongue, but he chooses not to voice it. Instead, he briefly covers Zevran's fingers over the back of his neck and Zevran blinks slowly. Vergil can't name the emotion crossing his features, something darkening the gold in his eyes. _It's better to let go,_ some small voice whispers in his mind. _Don’t touch what you’re not ready to uncover._

“Can the ink be enchanted?” He asks, tone oddly hushed as he leans back. Zevran rubs his neck, letting the hair fall down on his shoulders. 

“Like dwarves do with weapons?” Zevran clarifies and Vergil nods, “I guess. Though I haven't met anyone with enchanted tattoos, not that I was aware of anyway. Wait,” his eyes narrow, “it takes lyrium to enchant things, yes? Then I don't think I've ever heard of technique like this. It'd cost a fortune and typical Antivan artists aren't very rich, believe me.”

Vergil bites his lip briefly, distracted by the idea. “I'm not sure anyone would live through the process anyway. Lyrium under skin? Suicide. Slow and painful one.”

Zevran looks at him, tilting his head, “But if it would work without side effects, would you get one?”

He huffs, “If it would get me some additional boost, why not? I'd even sacrifice both of my arms for tattoos.”

A small smile plays on Zevran's lips, “Just imagine, unsheathing weapons drawn on your skin. Magic!” He snaps his fingers with flourish.

“If only,” Vergil shakes his head and stretches before he lies down on bedroll, feeling the muscles on his back crying in relief.

_If only._


End file.
